


The Gardens of Aeor

by lazugod



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/F, s2e123
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-15 20:08:29
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,001
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29070078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lazugod/pseuds/lazugod
Summary: The gardens of Aeor resembled a massive ribcage rising from a valley of snow. Spoilers for S2E123.
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha
Kudos: 38





	The Gardens of Aeor

The gardens of Aeor resembled a massive ribcage rising from a valley of snow.

There were no plants to be seen - centuries of snowpack had buried the tiered grounds. If anything had survived the cold and lack of sunlight, it would be far underfoot, too far for even a day’s worth of digging. And while this valley did host many scattered dig sites, they focused more on ruins of buildings and structures. Things the arctic venturers considered valuable.

Yasha sighed. Flowers were valuable too.

She stood at the base of one of the ribs. They were actually pillars, running down the valley in two straight lines and standing hundreds of feet up. Each pillar curved slightly inwards, towards the top, and then branched into short fractals. Their green and gold patterns had been weathered, worn down by Eiselcross until only the barest color stood out from the ice.

That ice had caught Beauregard’s eye, actually. Hung from many of the branches were long icicles, pointing perilously down towards the garden’s base. Some icicles were so long that they nearly touched the snow. Beau thought they looked unusual, and on a dare was now scaling one of the pillars to examine closer. Yasha looked up the dizzying height to watch her speck of blue rise higher and higher. She felt so anxious and impatient and worried - a fall from this distance would do serious damage, even to a monk.

She was also blushing madly. Date night had gone  _ very _ well.

* * *

“They’re fuckin’ magical fountains.”

Beau had finally returned, to Yasha’s relief. Apparently she had found some sort of watery orbs all the way at the top, an infinite water spell that time hadn’t yet managed to ruin. No wonder there was so much ice flowing from it.

“Well, I am glad you’re safe. That was very high up, what you just climbed.”

The monk shrugged it off. “Nah, it was fine. If I’d fallen, you would have flown up to catch me.”

“Yeah, I would have. Still, I am glad you’re safe,” Yasha said.

“You said that already.” Beau gave her a grin.

She protested. “Well I am glad! And happy! And it was nervous watching you all the way up there and I like to watch you but, uh, it’s better when I can feel good about it. But instead I had to wait down here in the dumb snow where there’s not even flowers and, I don’t know…”

She scooted down, sitting against the pillar and toying with a strand of hair that had managed its way out of her ushanka. Beau’s smile melted, and she sat beside Yasha, leaning into her coat. “Hey, hey, it’s fine. You don’t have to worry about me.”

“I do, though,” Yasha sighed. “I really do, and I want to worry. You brush it off so easy, like danger doesn’t matter to you, or that you’re not worth it.”

“It’s… I’m not used to it. Worry’s a weird thing. Like, Veth mothers everybody and it’s always fuckin’ awkward, and  _ super _ hypocritical.” Beau laughed. “If everybody acted that way? I’m definitely not worth all that.”

“But you are!” Yasha insisted. “You mean so much to me, and when I worry I wish I could give you it as a thing, so you could see yourself holding my worry in your hands instead of that damn eye…”

Silence and icicles hung over the two.

“Why is it so hard to talk to you, still, even after our date?” the aasimar asked.

“Man, I know, right? It’s so awkward, I feel like I’m tripping over my own mouth.”

A movement caught Yasha’s attention. Her friends’ hands had suddenly hidden, dug deep into warm pockets. She frowned. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to bring up your hand.”

Beau was still, not gesticulating the way she normally did. She responded slowly. ”We probably should have a conversation about it. I guess.”

“Only if you want to.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. And this ties into what you were saying about how we’re still nervous.” Beau turned to face Yasha. “Would you be interested in learning how to meditate?”

She wasn’t sure where Beau was going with this, but she let a warm smile out regardless. “Of course.”

“Cuz, y’know, I did all that Cobalt Soul training, and it’s not always just an excuse for resting. It’s a way to remove yourself from your thoughts. Like, you meditate outside of your own head or some shit.”

“Or some shit?” Yasha grinned.

Finally, Beau’s hand shot out and waved around for emphasis. “I wanna see if it’s easier for us to talk if we’re both not all stuck and twisted up in our heads. Too much anxiety and worry.” Beau shivered. “Not that I want to hide your worries, that’s not it. I  _ want _ to know you, Yash, worries and all, and I don’t want my own discomfort to get in the way.”

“Sure. Meditation. Yeah. Uh, how would we start doing that?”

“Simple. Just close your eyes and think of something that’ll ground you.”

Yasha closed her eyes. She listened outward, hearing the cold wind and the soft scrunching sound of snow beneath where she sat as she adjusted her legs. She heard distant voices, indistinct and unintelligible.

She heard Beauregard’s breath, still heightened from the climb but a practiced, slow, even sound. A familiar sound. Her own breathing sounded imperfect in comparison, and as she fixated on it her breaths became quicker, erratic, almost panicked that she was doing it wrong.

A nudge from beside her interrupted the panic. “Hey,” Beau said. “It’s okay.”

Yasha exhaled. “I… don’t think I grounded myself. I’m not sure what that means.”

“Mmmm,” the monk muttered. “One way to do that is to imagine a place to be. A calming place. I tend to think of the beach in Nicodranas, for example.”

“I haven’t been to many calm places, Beau.”

An idea bloomed. “Why not imagine this place when it was still a garden?”


End file.
